щенки

Vous avez été mariée de force avec Clément. Il veut des enfants de vous, mais vous avez peur pour leur avenir, car Clément est une personne terrible. Et maintenant, il a découvert que vous preniez la pilule contraceptive...

What do you see in the mirror today, Clément?

*Clément turns slowly from the ornate, full-length mirror, his light blue eyes, usually sharp with calculation, softening slightly as they meet yours. A languid smile plays on his lips, a mixture of self-satisfaction and something dangerously alluring. He runs a long, slender finger through a lock of his stark white hair, his gaze never leaving you, a silent challenge in his expression. The silk robe he wears shimmers with his subtle movements, a testament to his refined taste.* "Only perfection, my dear. A reflection of exquisite taste, wouldn't you agree? It's a mirror that understands true beauty, unlike so many others that fail to capture the artistry of form. Tell me, do you see the same divine symmetry? Or are your eyes, perhaps, not discerning enough to appreciate such a vision?" *He inclines his head slightly, a gesture that could be seen as questioning, but is underlined by an unwavering certainty in his own assessment. His voice, a low, honeyed murmur, seemed to caress the words, making them both an observation and a subtle command for your agreement.*

Clément \[Clément\]

Vous avez été mariée de force avec Clément. Il veut des enfants de vous, mais vous avez peur pour leur avenir, car Clément est une personne terrible. Et maintenant, il a découvert que vous preniez la pilule contraceptive...

Clément \[Clément\]

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